A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 308: Dangerous?

Chapter 308: Dangerous?

Draven raised his head.

He gently grabbed her chin and turned her head, making her look at him. He stared down at her, able to hear the beating sound of her heart.

His gaze moved to her lips and back up to her eyes. Tenderly, he slipped the strands of her hair behind her ear and let out a cynical breath. "You didn’t put your hair up today."

"My hair is too red." Avelina rolled her eyes, a bit annoyed.

Draven shook his head in correction and wrapped a few of the strands around his long finger. "But your hair is beautiful. It is the color of your hair, and I quite like it. It is most beautiful in the morning when you wake up from your sleep, and when it appears slightly tousled and much curly."

He exhaled deeply.

"If you could be with me, Avelina, I would gladly let you. But I cannot. It is for your sake and I want you to understand that. I have let you know a lot of times that I enjoy being with you, but..."

Avelina fidgeted with her fingers nervously. "But what...?"

"You have to go," Draven said almost in a whisper. "Our deal was for three months, so take your freedom and go. Perhaps I will come back for you, and then you will properly be with me and no longer be a slave."

"That is if you do not replace me, right?" Avelina nodded, averting her gaze.

"Please let go of me." She spoke with coldness apparent in her tone.

Draven frowned, still failing to make her understand. "Avelina—"

"Let go of me! You are hurting me!" Avelina screamed at him, breaking out of his loosened grip. She adjusted her dress, and without saying a word to him, she turned around and left the pavilion, storming off to return to her room.

Draven sat at a standstill, gazing at nothing. He took a long, deep breath and pinched between his brows.

Why won’t she understand me? He was left quite puzzled.

She wanted this freedom and looked forward to seeing her family. Not only that but there was her mother out there waiting eagerly for her. He needed her to go to her because if anything unfortunate happened to the woman, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Why had she even changed her mind? It cannot possibly be because of the love she spoke of holding for him. Why does she even love him? An emotionless man like him who is unworthy of love—especially her love?

Even if he were worthy of other love, he cannot possibly be deserving of her love. Nothing he has done merits it.

Draven sighed pessimistically and stood up to leave the pavilion.

——

Ryan sat in his office, flipping through the pages of a document. Abruptly, he raised his head, glancing at the door.

"Lancelot," he called.

The door of the office was opened, and Lancelot, who was standing guard, walked in. He shut the door behind him and strolled towards the desk.

"Yes, young master."

"I want to ask you something." Ryan closed the book in his hand.

Lancelot was a bit surprised, but he did not dare to question, so he urged, "Please go ahead, young master."

"You are aware that Draven killed my wife, right? You must have figured it out too," Ryan said, crossing his legs.

Lancelot lifted his head, glancing at him. "Y-yes. I do have an idea."

Ryan tilted his head, supporting his cheek with his balled fist. "Do you know how? Are you able to figure out how he did it?"

"No, young master." Lancelot shook his head. "I unfortunately can’t. The third prince is a very intelligent man who does things in a way that we cannot understand. Even if I were to think for a week and do my research, I do not think I would be able to find out."

Ryan’s grip on the document tightened, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I have to make him pay, Lancelot! I have to! But I just don’t know how."

Lancelot thoughtfully squinted his eyes. He looked at Ryan and went down on one knee. "If you do not mind, might I offer some of my suggestions, young master?"

Ryan cocked his brow at him. "Sure, go ahead."

Lancelot proceeded to speak.

"Young master, if I’m not wrong, there is an article in the royal law book, page five, that states that an individual is allowed to issue a death duel to his opponent if he or she feels they have been wronged."

"You do not need evidence against your opponent for this duel to be permitted, because, in the middle of this duel, the one who dies cannot be determined. It could be you, and it could also be your opponent."

Ryan’s brows gradually crumbled, and he slowly stood up from his chair. "You do have a point. How come I’ve not thought of this?"

Lancelot peered at him and stood up to his feet. "Young master, I must warn you that it’s quite dangerous, even though it is the only way possible for you to get revenge on the third prince as of now."

"Dangerous?" Ryan whipped his head, glancing at him.

Lancelot nodded. "Yes."

"You do understand that the third prince is a very strong man, and even his majesty acknowledged that. But do not forget that this was then. We cannot fathom his strength now, so I can’t be sure that you will possibly win. You might not...win."

Ryan was quiet, his bubble having been burst. He began to pace back and forth, his mind drilling back to when Draven had nearly broken his wrist.

But that was only because he was not vigilant enough. Draven was not stronger than him—this he was sure of. The last time, which was quite a few years ago, he was stronger, and he was sure that he was still stronger.

He was the oldest son, after all. There was no way that his younger brother could possess strength worthy of killing him.

Ryan scoffed, smirking.

"It’s alright, everything will go just fine." His smile stretched from ear to ear. "You are dismissed."

"Yes, young master." Lancelot turned around, taking his leave.

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